Diary of a journalism post-grad, chapter seven

WHAT is the point of wisdom teeth? I feel no wiser from the fact I am teething, only like someone has punched me in the face.

Yesterday was a particularly low point, as I could only eat food the depth of a pitta bread without my jaw aching. I’m hoping it will just go away, as I haven’t registered with a dentist yet…

Today, I can open my mouth to the width of a banana, so progress is being made.

The week has flown by as we’ve hit the build up to several big assignments.

Am still writing away for my patch report and getting frustrated in the process. I have several stories that just require a quote from the council, so I spent yesterday trying to get hold of the right person. One department passed me round three different press offices, each claiming that they didn’t deal with my question.

At one point, I was being ping-ponged between two, because neither thought it was their issue. Finally, I got ‘transferred’ to a dead line and finally gave up.

Not having had enough patch fun I went to interview a councillor yesterday evening. Quite a good interview, though I felt he was a little cagey when asked to comment on some local issues. I put to him not my own views but some complaints I had from local residents about council policies and promises and he got quite defensive. I was being very polite and I thought it was his job to respond to his electorate’s concerns.

Maybe he was having an off day. Got a story out of him about a controversial new restaurant that has opened on the site of an old illegal drinking den, so it was still worth it, after all.

Haven’t had much of a life outside of school this week unfortunately. My boyfriend was down last weekend, which was lovely and a nice excuse to take some time off from working. Went to an amazing exhibition at the Natural History Museum of wildlife photographers and started to wonder whether photojournalism might be the way forward. I don’t think David Attenborough need start worrying yet – I’m definitely from the ‘thumb in front of the lens’ photography school.

Not wanting to portray myself as a petty person, I have been having shelf wars with my flatmates all week. We each have a shelf of the fridge to keep our food on as we shop individually. Every day I find random stuff jammed onto my shelf, and every day I move it back to its rightful home.

The next morning, it’s always back where it started. A similar pattern is emerging in our attempts to recycle: we have loads of recycling bins on our estate and a recycling box on the balcony outside out kitchen. I keep finding bottles and cans lined up by the kitchen door. All you have to do to put them in the box is open said door, which I seem to manage just fine – is it too much to ask?

I am turning into an old woman – pettiness and wisdom teeth confirm it. As does my looming birthday a week on Saturday. Party plans must be made.